TW stigma My name is Jemma and I have a personality disorder

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I’m standing up. I’m declaring I have a personality disorder. I also have general anxiety disorder and bipolar. I have some physical health problems too, but apparently they are less likely to make me a murderer, or so the recent article by Deborah Orr would have people believe. I refuse to link to it as I think the fewer people who read her offensive, spiteful words the better.

It has taken me a while after first reading her article to write this as I needed to step away from the computer, in the meantime the fantastic Louise Pennington has written ‘Ignoring the Obvious to Perpetuate Myths about Violence’  and I thank her for doing this so quickly.

Similarly to Louise I’m not sure where to start. Even after taking over an hour away to compose myself, my feelings have been triggered so deeply that it is impossible for me to address this in a calm, logical manner, however, I know I have to otherwise I’m playing right into the hands of Orr and her cronies.

I was first diagnosed as having a mental illness and began treatment when I was 17, however, I know that I have had it for much longer. I am approaching my 29th birthday and I can say with no shadow of a doubt that I have never been violent to another being. I apologise and feel deep regret when I end up killing mosquitos who are biting me, I used force but not violence when I was being sexually assaulted, I was vegetarian for over five years as I thought the animals had more of a right to life than I did, I went fencing and was told I would be a great fencer if only I was a bit more aggressive but I was terrified of hurting my opponent. The only person I have ever attacked is myself.

So with nearly 12 years of meeting people with mental illnesses under my belt I can honestly say that I have only ever met one man who had a mental illness and was violent and have met a lot more men who aren’t mentally ill that are violent.

Yes, the averages may say that there are fewer people with mental illnesses than those without so I am bound to have met more violent men without a mental health issue but this has not been representative of my life. As it has dominated my life a lot of people I socialise with have, or have had, experience of mental illness.

I have only met one violent woman. She was violent due to acts of violence perpertrated against her. She knew it was wrong but didn’t know how else to control what she felt as this was all she knew.

I’m not even sure it’s the article that bothers me so much as her continuation to defend her words on Twitter. I will not post the screen shots of what she said as they were actually so discriminatory and triggering that all the hard work I have put in to my recovery was wiped out, I can’t even revisit her feed myself. It’s not fair to share my feelings with you as I am dealing with them but really must thank the wonderful Twitter friends that I have as well as the amazing techniques I have been taught over the years for preventing me from going one step too far.

Orr ignores all statistics.

No one is saying all men commit violent crimes but the fact that more men than women commit violent crimes cannot be denied.

No one is saying people with mental illness don’t commit crimes but the fact is people with mental illness are more likely to be the victims of crime.

I’m sorry I’m not providing the stats but I am emotionally drained and can’t remember them off the top of my head, nor do I have the energy to look them up.

I understand people wanting to understand why people commit crimes, I feel the same. I really wonder why they do it, but people do not kill because they have a personality disorder.

Orr clearly shows her underlying bias as she keeps refering to TV dramas where women solve crimes. Maybe Orr needs to spend some time with the police to see that in fact there are female detectives! For too long have male detectives dominated our screens so it’s nice to see this finally being redressed. Women aren’t just the handy sidekick or used as bait for serial killers. In fact I think my godsisters who are both detectives would love to have a sit down with Orr and tell her a few home truths. Whatever Orr’s issues are with other females she really needs to address these in a more positive, productive way than victimising individuals with mental illnesses.

It is people like Orr who have made me fear telling the world about my mental health. Slowly I let people know about being depressed, then some of my anxiety issues and with the support of charities and the Twitter MH community I have shared my actual diagnosis. Today’s events made me regret all this and the temptation to just erase my life was overwhelming. But no, I don’t want anyone else to have to go through this. I am NOT a bad person. Orr, you don’t know me. You clearly don’t know anyone with a personality disorder, or if you do they have hidden it from you due to your disgusting prejudice (and you’d probably be surprised at just how lovely they are).

I am standing up saying I HAVE A PERSONALITY DISORDER and I AM NOT A BAD PERSON.

J x

I want the things that I had before Like a Star Wars poster on my bedroom door

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The lyrics of the post title come from Everclear’s Wonderful and one of the songs that I use to create my safe space. The idea of making things go back to how they were, the feeling of safety, being home has appealed to me for as long as I can remember but right now it is needed more than ever as nothing and nowhere seems safe.

I know being physically unwell and The Darkness being here have a huge bearing on my judgement but it’s clear that other people are being targeted in areas they once felt safe. The increasing number of protected accounts on Twitter, people being scared to voice their very valid (and polite) opinion and changes being made to blogs are all evidence that I am not alone.  The scary part is I don’t feel safe in myself either.

It is with this in mind that I am taking a Twittercation. I have to find another safe place for me to be. Somewhere I can trust people. Somewhere where I can share my opinion without the fear of people jumping down my neck. I’m lucky that I haven’t had anything said to me but seeing it happen to other people, people I care about, people trying to do good things is incredibly disturbing. I was writing a post earlier about my POTS but then deleted what I had written as I was scared that my illness was in somehow going to offend someone.

People will always have different views. If you don’t like their views, don’t follow them. Would you follow someone around in real life listening to a conversation you don’t like? No? Ok, I think we have your answer. On the same vein I understand when people are saying offensive things that it does upset people (I’ve been upset myself), if these people don’t wish to engage in a civil conversation about why something is offensive  then there is a little button called “block” that people may feel useful. Don’t call people in to pile on or troll. We are not children.

Anyway, fair enough, I’m off Twitter for now but that’s just a computer place and as a real life friend has just said “Waiting for the internet to grow up is like a broken pencil…”. I’m trying to visualise my other safe spaces. I use them daily in my mindfulness but nowhere I am or can visualise feels safe.

Being in water at the moment feels like I’m drowning. I can’t stand in the shower without syncope, the warm water just sitting in the bath lowers my blood pressure substantially enough to make me vomit (then of course there is the fun of trying to get out), swimming is a no go while I’m in pain. My bed feels like a prison, somewhere that is causing me more pain that it is currently solving. The kitchen is restricted for my own safety whilst I am having moments of dissociation and unpredictable syncope. I can’t spend long periods writing. I don’t trust myself. Despite being afraid of outdoors I’m loathing having no possible escape.

I’m trapped with me and I don’t really like me.

TW Sui/SH Mental Health Awareness Week pt 2 or “Hello darkness my old friend”

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Day 2 of Mental Health Awareness Week and with it came a greater intensity to the dark, empty feeling that I hadn’t felt in quite a while until yesterday aka The Darkness.

It turns out the anxiety of Atos had been filling my being and no matter how suicidal I felt it was an edgy, heart racing suicide that was calling me, one that was really driven and dispersed with periods where the only way to get the anxiety out of me was to make cuts in my skin.

The emptiness crept in sometime yesterday when I wasn’t paying attention. I was aware of it when I wrote my blog but at the time it was a nice change to feel something different to wanting to scratch at all the walls. I woke this morning at about 5am with the apathy that I remember first had hit me nearly 13 years ago.

I couldn’t move. I saw no point. I didn’t want to sleep. I didn’t want to get up. I really felt nothing at all. So there I lay for two hours until I felt the pain in my back gnawing away so I got up and then sat, again doing not much of anything at all apart from letting the thoughts in my head have their say.

I knew I had therapy today and despite all the fear and unworthy feelings (not to mention the migraine) that I thought would prevent me in the past 2 weeks I had been driven by this energy coursing through me. Having spent the previous 4 hours with an inner dialogue debating as to whether I should go (Rationale stating, “You’ll never get better if you don’t go” and “You’ll let people down”. The Darkness saying, “meh” and “erm…meh” respectively) I finally threw some clothes and trudged out the door.

To be honest therapy was beneficial as it really kicks in my need to take care of people and this is the only thing that generally keeps The Darkness from whispering sweet nothings to me. Instead for the briefest of times I was driven by: I want to protect these people. I want to erase all these bad things that have happened to them. I need them to know it’s not their fault.

Once the session was over though and I spent time reflecting on what had gone on in the 2 hours the feelings from the first session I had been to returned but this time they are goverend by The Darkness. They come from deep within me and are long and thoughtful rather than the short snappy jumpy thoughts I’d grown used to the past few weeks. Sure I have flitted between anxiety, buzzy feelings and The Darkness a lot, all part of the old bpd but this last period was so long it felt like it was here to stay. I can’t honestly decide which is worse, the grass always seems greener. The Darkness does seem to put an emphasis on suicide and how beneficial it will be to everyone who is unlucky enough to have had me barge my way into their lives. The self harm is more from a base of needing to feel. The contrast of the sharp scratch from the blade, the heat from the wound, the blood cooling as it reaches the skin surface, then the repeat as the scab is scratched off. All in all The Darkness does what it says on the tin and leaves a vacuum inside.

Hmm, I haven’t really talked much about my day but to be honest the day has passed by quite emptily. I have been wound up by the usual things on Twitter and felt solidarity with those being wound up on Twitter but not with the same passion.

I need to move from the chair. I need to get a shower. I can’t.

Eheu.

 

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